


some fellas look and find the sunshine, i always look and find the rain

by dreadfulbeauties



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hair Brushing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Canon, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadfulbeauties/pseuds/dreadfulbeauties
Summary: In which Laurence and Amelia have a little chit-chat as Laurence fixes her hair.
Relationships: Laurence & Vicar Amelia (Bloodborne), also some laurence/ludwig if you squint
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	some fellas look and find the sunshine, i always look and find the rain

“Say, Laurence, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Sunbeams straggle through the sheer curtains of their bedroom, reflecting off the metal bedknobs. Amelia’s hair has been washed and dried the day before — she won’t let anyone else, not even their mother, touch her hair save for Laurence. Her older brother, she says, is the _only_ one who can work the tangles out of her hair without hurting her, and knows how to tie her ribbons just right so that they don’t look lopsided. Laurence, too, likes fixing up his younger sister’s hair. For him, it’s more of a brief moment of respite from their mother. With Amelia, he can be himself.

He begins to undo the loose, unruly braids he left her hair in. He remembers being told that sleeping with your hair down in two braids is better than sleeping with it loose or even in a bun, doing so distributes the air more evenly across your scalp and prevents it from going thin. Amelia’s hair is the same as his, reminiscent of marigolds: Bright, bold red with glimmers of yellow caught in there too. 

As he undoes the strips of hair from braids, Laurence thinks. What _does_ he want to be when he grows up? Mama always told him that he’d inherit the family fortune (even if there were the worse nights when she’d tell him through alcohol-contaminated lips that he wasn’t _worthy_ of it) when he was old enough. But what would he do when he did? Would he sit around with his money and estate in Yharnam forever, idle and destined to grow old and gray?

“I don’t know.”

There’s already a tangle decorating a cluster of Amelia’s curls. He drags the teeth of the comb through it, prying hairs apart to undo the knot.

“Well, there’s got to be something you want to be when you grow up, right? Lots of people know when they’re your age — Micolash told me all about how he wants to be a teacher or start his own school when he’s a grown-up. And I know what I want to be already.”

“That’s good — if you want to change your mind when you’re a bit older, though, that’s perfectly alright. You’re only eight years old, after all. But what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“A doctor. I know Mama wants me to get married to when I’m older — she told us about how this happens, and how I’m supposed to get married when you’re older, because you won’t always be here to take care of me. But I want to marry someone I know I’ll like, and I want to be a doctor, too. I hate knowing how many sick people there are in Yharnam. And I want to help.”

He slides the teeth of the comb through Amelia’s hair again, admiring the way the sunlight catches glints of gold. “I think you’d be a very good doctor, Amelia.”

“You do? I know Mama probably wouldn’t want me to be a doctor. So I just don’t talk about it. Why?”

“Well, you’re very smart. Doctors have to know a lot about medicine and helping their patients. They don’t know how to cure or heal everything, but they have to be willing to learn. Like you. I think once you’re old enough to go to Byrgenwerth you should study medicine. But there’s another thing. You care so much about other people. Even the ones you don’t know very well.”

“Huh. A lot of the girls at school don’t like me. They say that I don’t know how to help them when they’re sad. But I do. I do feel sad when they do. I just don’t know how to show that I care about them, and when I do they make fun of me or get angry at me for it. I don’t get it. And when I try and think how other people are feeling, it hurts too much.”

“I know you care, Amelia. You’ve got a big heart. I just don’t think people understand how it works for you. And I really wish they did. But once you become a doctor, they will.”

_When,_ Laurence thinks, _Not if. Amelia is still young, she’s only lived for eight years and has many more ahead of her. She’ll become a doctor like she always wanted to. You’ve just got to make sure she does. If Mother finds out and hurts you for it, well, that’s your own fault. You weren’t smart enough to avoid getting her angry about it._

“But what’s one thing you want to be when you grow up, Laurence?”

He sets down the comb. Amelia’s hair is undone from its braid, tight red curls springing to life after he dragged a comb and his fingers through the snarls that bunched it up. With a slightly unsteady hand he picks up the comb once more to drag it against the hair near Amelia’s temples, separating two of the strands and holding them gently in place. It’s easier to fix up Amelia’s wild mop of unruly red curls than it is to think about what he wants to be when he grows up. He’s sixteen — only sixteen, some might say, though others may say already sixteen. In five years’ time he will leave Byrgenwerth behind and go… back home? To Mama again? Mama who reminded him that maybe he doesn’t deserve to walk the halls of this house and call it his own? What about Ludwig? Ludwig who’s told him that love is not breath stinking of alcohol or razor-edged words but soft presses of lips to the knuckles and favorite pieces of music? What about Ludwig? Would Mama want to know? He can imagine her lips contorting into a sneer now: _You could’ve picked any boy to marry, but why this one?_

He settles on an answer. “I want to be happy.”

(He’s not sure if he’ll ever grasp hold of happiness tight, never to let it go. But it is for certain what he _wants_.)

“That’s not a job. Isn’t there a job you want to have? Do you want to be a teacher? Do you want to act at the theater? Do you want to paint things?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. But think of it this way — oh, wait, which color hair ribbon do you want? We have blue or white.”  
“Blue, please.”

He slides the powdery blue ribbon beneath a layer of hair, twisting it around. “Think of it this way: Do you think that being a doctor will make you happy?”  
“Yes!”

“Why do you think it will make you happy?”

“Because I’ll be helping people. Even if not everyone gets better, I’ll be doing something.”

“I haven’t found out what I think will make me happy. But I know that’s what I want. And like I said, I could change my mind. I haven’t found it yet. It works differently for different people, thinking about what we want and who we want to be when we’re grown up.”  
Will it really make a difference, though? When Laurence never really got to be a child in the first place?

Amelia exhales a little. “Okay. I understand a little better now.”

He finishes tying her hair ribbon, securing it in place with a smile. “Turn around — there we go! You look very pretty.”

Amelia smiles, showcasing one of her missing baby teeth. “Thank you.”

“When you grow up, I hope you become the best doctor in the world.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, but I can try. And Laurence?”

“Hmm?”

She reaches up to wrap her arms around her brother, squeezing him tight.

“I don’t know what you should be when you grow up, either, but I hope you’re happy, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> one of my headcanons is that in life amelia was neurodivergent - autistic, for clarity's sake. as an autistic girl myself, i relate to a lot of her experiences in regards to actually feeling empathy but just lacking the understanding of social cues to convey it or express it. my special interest was never medicine, though. i'm much more on the writerly side, as you can see :]
> 
> this was a nice little writing exercise! i had fun writing it.
> 
> thank you for reading. comments are always appreciated.


End file.
